After the incident on the Denver journey and his instant recognition by a chance brakeman on the train, he had steeled himself, looking for similar embarrassments at every turn. But uphill paths are not always rough or slippery throughout, and in proof of this the beginnings were made easy for him. From the first he met no inopportune acquaintances, and, again, the question of employment answered itself congenially and promptly. Colonel Bowran needed a draughtsman; also, he happened to hold Brant’s college in high repute, since its Professor of Mathematics had been an alumnus of his own alma mater. This and that, yoked together, ploughed Brant’s furrow for him; and two days after his arrival in Denver he was perched upon a high stool in the chief engineer’s office, giving himself mind and heart to the practice of a profession which had once been an artistic passion with him.
A fortnight later Antrim came back, the acquaintance was renewed, and Brant exchanged his room at the hotel for lodgings in the quiet private house recommended by the chief clerk. For a few weeks the reincarnated one went about his business circumspectly, spending his days at the office and his evenings with a fresh gathering of books in his room at Mrs. Seeley’s, and showing himself in the streets as little as might be. This guarded walk brought its own reward. Not once in his goings and comings did he see a familiar face out of the disregarded underworld; and when the sense of security began to tread upon the heels of continued immunity, he ventured to take another step and went with Antrim to call upon the Langfords.
“They are nice people, and I am sure you’ll like them,” said the chief clerk. “My father was the judge’s oldest friend back in Tennessee, and our houses stood in the same acre. I’ve known them ever since I can remember.”
Antrim signalled a North Denver car, and Brant ventured a single question:
“Large family of them?”
“No; two girls and a boy. Dorothy’s good, but not pretty; Isabel is pretty, but not—well, I’ll leave her out, and you can judge for yourself. As for Will, he is another sort altogether. I call him an unlicked cub.”
Twenty minutes later Antrim was introducing his friend in the double drawing-room of the transplanted Southern mansion in the highlands.
“Mrs. Langford—my friend, Mr. Brant. Judge Langford, this is the hermit I promised to bring you. Isabel, let me present Mr. Brant. Dorothy——”
But the elder daughter was smiling her remembrance of him, and she forestalled the introduction.
“I am so glad to be able to thank you in our own house, Mr. Brant,” she said. “Mamma, this is the gentleman who was so kind to me on the night of the wreck.”